


Gym Rats

by nauticalparamour



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gym AU, Modern AU, Sort of PWP, but that's just how he flirts, hermione is annoyed, tom's an arse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 19:25:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14339370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nauticalparamour/pseuds/nauticalparamour
Summary: Hermione is really just into cardio. A dedicated runner, training for a race. Unfortunately for her, all of her gym sessions are now plagued by a handsome stranger who insists on warming up on the treadmill next to her before hitting the weights. She hates the way he always sniffs at her pace, because obviously if he CHOSE to run, he would be much faster. But he doesn’t. Choose to run that is. He’s just happy over there doing bench presses.





	Gym Rats

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a fun little thing I started over on tumblr, and decided to finally put it all together into a hopefully somewhat cohesive thing. I hope that you enjoy it!

It was impossible  _ not  _ to notice the tall stranger who stepped onto the treadmill next to her’s. Hermione’s eyes darted over to him briefly -- all dark hair and strong arms -- before returning to the monitor of her own machine.  _ Swift. Speedy. Strong. Silent. _ Her ponytail swished in time with her strides as she ran along, pushed further ahead by music carefully selected for the beats per minute.

The stranger pressed some buttons, before beginning to jog on his own machine, quickly picking up speed. His booming footsteps would be a distraction for anyone not practiced in this nightly routine of Hermione’s, and were a sign of poor form, Hermione thought, feeling superior.

She sensed him looking over at her machine, obviously to check her pace. Then, he scoffed. Loud enough for her to notice.

Hermione jutted her jaw out, annoyed, but not wanting to give him the satisfaction of reacting. She was not slow! And she was only two miles in to her six mile run! Not everything was a sprint,  _ honestly. _

The stranger punched up his speed in response.

Scowling to herself, Hermione turned up the volume in her headphones committed to just ignoring him and his need to show off. No, she would  _ not _ give him the satisfaction of knowing that she even noticed he’d done anything. Not five minutes later, he was hopping off the treadmill and heading in the direction of the weights.

_ Typical, _ she thought to herself with a sniff, before refocusing on her run. He hadn’t even run a single mile.

Half an hour later, once she was finished, Hermione walked in the direction of the exit, only to be cut off by the same idiot meathead lugging a pair of free weights that looked entirely too large for  _ anyone _ to lift. Clearly, he was a show off, more interested in exercising glamorously, rather than putting in the time and effort to be a real athlete like she was.

They went back and forth in one of those little dances where they kept going the same way, before finally stopping. Hermione glared at him, his cheekbones and biceps made all the obvious by the harsh lighting of the gym, before finally pushing past, hoping that she never saw that  _ idiot _ again.

* * *

The next time Hermione showed up at the gym, the only open treadmill was next to the stranger. Internally she groaned, wistfully thinking of the possibility that she could just skip her run and return home.

_ No, I will not let what that ass thinks of me affect my training schedule _ , she huffed.

Pressing her water bottle into the open space, she set up the machine for her run, doing her best not to look at him. She wasn’t even going to give him the time of day.

The belt started moving, and immediately the stranger punched up his speed giving her a little look, as though she were  _ such _ a little weakling. Hermione bit the inside of her cheek, hoping that she wouldn’t forget herself and say something.

Still, she couldn’t allow herself to be outdone a second time. Peeking over at his display, she increased her speed until it was just a bit faster than his, smirking to herself while her ponytail swished back and forth.

However, it seemed that this stranger was just as petty as she was, bumping up his speed another notch above hers. Hermione jut her chin out in defiance, increasing her speed again. This back and forth continued until Hermione was practically at a full out sprint, puffing to keep up.

The stranger grabbed the sides of the treadmill, hopping off to the sides and turning the machine off, giving her a mean little look before turning away and wandering over to the weight section.

_ Great, _ Hermione thought to herself,  _ I can’t believe I was that petty. _ And now, she couldn’t very well decrease her speed. She’d be so embarrassed for him to know that she’d just been in a pissing match with him, solely because he irritated her.

Looking straight ahead, she could see the reflection of the bench, the stranger sitting astride it obviously in between sets. He was staring in her direction, obviously waiting to for her to slow down, interest and disgust clear in his eyes. Thankfully, she barely had a mile left to go, so she thought she could continue at that pace.

She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of slowing down.

* * *

Hermione was perfectly aware of how sad it was to be heading to the gym on a Friday night. Still, she could secretly feel relief that her vigorous training schedule freed her from another awkward night out at the pub with Harry, Ginny, Ron and Lavender. If either of the girls tried to set her up on a blind date again…

But at least the treadmill didn’t think she was a pathetic fifth wheel, rather a dedicated athlete.

Sighing, Hermione was glad to see that the gym was blissfully empty. She’d be able to knock out a couple of miles without being disturbed by annoying strangers with annoyingly perfect dark hair. She quickly settled into her preferred pace, focusing on her mantra and zoning out.

She was nearly halfway through her run when she was startled out of her trance by someone hopping on the treadmill next to her.

Looking up, she was unable to hide a snarl when she noticed it was him. The stranger.

This had gone on long enough, Hermione decided. She simply couldn’t be expected to hold her tongue when he wouldn’t even respect gym etiquette and take one of the open treadmills further away from her. “There are other open treadmills, you know,” she hissed.

The stranger smirked at her. “I prefer running next to you,” he said, looking down at her from his tall vantage point.

Hermione struggled to keep her stride and look up at him at the same time. “And just why is that?”

“Easy,” he said with a shrug. “I make you faster. You need me if you don’t want to continue plodding along at that pathetic pace.”

“Not everything is a sprint,” Hermione responded smartly. “There is such a thing as running for endurance, not speed.”

The stranger laughed at her then, and she hated the way that it made her heart beat skip. “Well, you have to run fast if you want to run fast,” he quipped. “And I seem to remember you completing your  _ little _ run at the pace I set for you the other night.”

Hermione’s focus snapped back ahead when she nearly tripped on her own shoelace, cheeks flaming red in embarrassment.  _ The pace that he set for her? Just who did he think he was? _ “That was different,” she insisted, but she wasn’t quite sure if it was.

“Well, what do I know, anyway?” he sneered down at her. “I’m just here to lift weights.”

Hermione could have sung to the heavens when the machine beeped, letting her know she’d completed her desired distance. Stepping off the belt, she gave the stranger a haughty look. “And you’d do well to remember that.”

Maybe a pint at the pub wasn’t the worst thing, if it would help her forget the infuriating stranger.

* * *

Hermione sighed as the overly amorous man on the treadmill asked her yet another question. Rolling her eyes, she pulled out one of her earbuds. “Sorry, what?”

“I said, you have really nice form,” the blond man huffed beside her, not hiding that he was leaning back to look at her behind.

Hermione gave him a tight smile, before turning to look at the display in front of her. Thanking all the powers that be that her run was short that night, she turned off the machine and stepped off of the belt.

She tried to ignore the man, but it was too no avail, as he was also hopping if his machine, stepping a little too close into her personal space. “So, now that we are done with our workouts, could I take you round to the pub?” Cormac, from her organic chemistry lecture, pestered her once again to go on a date.

She struggled with how to answer, but was surprised to be saved by an unlikely knight in shining armor. The mysterious, weight-lifting stranger, arsehole, and general bane of her existence. He sling an arm around her shoulder — resting without effort due to their height difference — making Hermione cringe realizing that he would feel how sweaty her neck got when she ran.

“Darling, have you finished up? We’ll have to hurry if we want to make our dinner reservation,” he said with a huge smile. Hermione was sure that most people would find it charming, but she knew his true personality hidden beneath.

Cormac looked confused. “Er, Hermione, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had a boyfriend,” he stuttered out, giving his  _ competition  _ an up and down look.

The stranger stuck his hand out, shaking Cormac’s forcefully, squeezing a bit too hard. “Tom,” he introduced himself. “Nice to meet you…?” he trailed off, looking at her for introduction.

“This is Cormac, he’s in my o-chem lecture,” she supplied. Cormac, still confused and embarrassed, made his excuses, before leaving the situation as quickly as possible.

Once he was gone, Hermione removed his heavy, sweaty arm from her shoulders, turning to face him. Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked at him pointedly. “What was that all about?”

“Hermione, was it?” he questioned, petulantly. “I was just helping you out. You were broadcasting signals that you wanted nothing to do with that idiot that clearly he wasn’t picking up on.”

“Been watching me again, Tom?” she prodded him, unwilling to hide her vicious little smirk. Immediately his cheeks went pink, and he crossed his arms over his chest as well.

“You should be _ thanking _ me. I could always go hunt Cormac down and tell him we broke up,” he seethed. Nodding, Hermione could concede that he had done a pretty nice thing.

“You are right. Thank you for helping me with Cormac,” she said, watching as Tom was completely thrown off kilter by her agreeing with him. “I actually am done with my workout. Maybe you’d like to pop over to the Gryffindor Arms to get dinner with me?” she questioned, wanting to extend the olive branch.

Instead, Tom sneered down at her, pushing his dark, wavy hair back out of his eyes. “I don’t actually want to spend time with you,” he deadpanned.

Hermione felt her blood begin to boil. She didn’t want to spend time with him either, but she’d been trying to be nice to him anyway! “Fine,” she said a bit more forcefully than she intended. “I don’t want to spend time with you either!” Deciding to end the conversation, she turned on her heel, leaving Tom behind.

* * *

After weeks of persistent hip pain, Hermione sometimes running partner, Harry, had suggested she might do some cross training to help alleviate the muscle strain. Harry played football for their University and they occasionally met up for morning runs along the lake, as he helped her push her pace a bit on shorter runs. He’d listened to her complain for a few weeks before finally pulling back and watching her stride. “Well, it seems simple enough. You need to strengthen your legs and glutes,” he said matter-of-factly.

 

Hermione had scoffed at him, annoyed that he felt her knew more than her for once when he’d barely passed anatomy  _ with _ her help. “My legs are very strong, Harry. I run  _ all  _ the time.”

 

“I mean, you might need to do a bit of weight lifting, Mione,” he said with a smirk. “Just start doing a couple of squats with the bar. Trust me, it will help.”

 

She’d suffered through another week of intermittent pain before she decided to give in and take Harry’s advice. Now, though, that she was staring at the weight rack in front of her, Hermione wondered just what the  _ fuck _ she was getting herself into. She’d watched a couple of YouTube videos on proper form, but she’d honestly never attempted a squat before in her life. She was just glad no one was around to see her embarrass herself.

 

Taking a deep breath, she took the bar off of the rack, only to squat down and stand back up. She could feel her muscles working, and she smiled to herself, proud that she was able to accomplish it.  _ See, that really wasn’t so hard _ . She repeated the motion a few more times.

 

Behind her, she could hear someone set down their weights, surprised that someone else was in the gym. She’d thought she’d avoided everyone.  _ Then _ she heard the person clear their throat behind her. Turning, she looked into the blue eyes of  _ Tom _ . “Christ, do you live here?” she snarled, feeling annoyed that he was  _ always _ there, watching her over her shoulder.

 

He didn’t answer the question, which she belatedly realized was a bit hypocritical. “Your stance is all wrong,” he said, looking at the way she was balancing the bar across her shoulders. “Your legs are too far apart. And you should squeeze your glutes when you stand.”

 

She felt her mouth gape open when she realized he’d been analyzing her  _ glutes _ . “Seriously, I  _ didn’t _ ask for your advice,” she smarted off to him.

 

“Well, you’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep that up,” he snarled back. Tapping at the side of her foot with his own, he cowed her into correctly her feet. “When you bend down, your knees should track in the same direction as your toes,” he explained, before impatiently gesturing for her to squat down again.

 

Rolling her eyes, Hermione did as instructed, wondering when she’d fallen into the twilight zone. “Don’t try to hold the bar with your hands, you’ll just hurt yourself when you try to add weight. Let it balance on your back,” he said, critically looking at her while he walked around her body, observing her form at every angle. As much as Hermione didn’t want to admit it, he was a good teacher, if a bit brusque. She could feel herself blush when he pressed a hand to her lower back to help her achieve the proper posture, thinking that he really felt quite warm. He continued to bark out orders until he stance was what he considered perfect, and her legs were straining.

 

Putting the bar back on the rack, Hermione gave him an appraising view. She could try to extend the olive branch again, realizing that he wasn’t a  _ complete _ ass all the time. “Thanks for your help,” she said quietly.

 

Tom returned her gaze, smirking at her. “Well, at least now you’ve decided to embrace weight lifting. It’s clearly a superior exercising technique to cardio.”

 

Rolling her eyes, Hermione couldn’t believe that the stupid idiot  _ couldn’t _ just leave well enough alone. “This is only  _ supplemental _ to my cardio. I am going to keep running,” she groused. Christ, she was going to have a lot to say to Harry when she met him in the morning.

 

“Well, I hope you’re not planning on running for a day or two,” he said, his eyes lingering on her arse and legs. “You’re going to be pretty sore in the morning. Might want to take a naproxen before bed, Hermione,” he said with that  _ superior _ tone of voice of his, like he thought he was just  _ so much _ better than she was.

 

Biting her lower lip to stop herself from snapping back at him, Hermione turned on her heels, wondering just how long Tom would continue to plague her gym visits.

* * *

Sitting at one of the stools at the bar with a pint in her hand, Hermione was glad that Ginny had agreed to give up on dancing for a while. With Ginny having a boyfriend and Hermione being, well, Hermione, neither one of them had been too enthused with the persistent male attention they were getting. Honestly, who just came up to you and pressed his dick into your back without even saying hello to you first and called it dancing?

 

Not to mention that her thighs were screaming in her heels. Tom had been right. The squats had made her quite sore.

 

Reluctantly, she began explaining to her ginger friend about what had been going on at the gym lately, about how Tom just couldn’t stop talking to her, but how he always managed to be an arse about it. Ginny was full of mostly violent advice that Hermione wouldn’t dream of actually trying, but it  _ did _ make her laugh nonetheless.

 

Turning to look at the rest of the pub, Hermione choked on her lager when she noticed that Tom himself was just walking the doors, looking annoyingly attractive in  _ real _ clothes for a change. “Oh Christ, here he is now,” she muttered.

 

Ginny, not subtle at all, turned and snorted. “That’s the guy? That’s the annoying arsehole?” she questioned with surprise.

 

“Do you know him?” Hermione answered, feeling her heart hammer against her chest in nervousness, seeing as Tom had most definitely noticed her, his blue eyes searring into hers.

 

“Yeah, he was my political science TA last year. He’s some kind of Masters candidate, studying like socialist uprisings or something,” Ginny explained. “Say no more -- he was an  _ absolute  _ pain in the ass. I totally understand.”

 

Looking pointedly down at the bar, Hermione hoped that ending eye contact with him would make him leave her alone. To her utter dismay, he instead walked over to them. “Ginerva, Hermione,” he greeted jovially, before laying a couple of pounds down at the bar and ordering himself an ale.

 

“Tom,” Hermione said, feeling annoyance bubble up inside her. Just what was his deal, telling her he didn’t want to spend time with her, only to come up to her at the pub. “Ginny was just telling me that you were her political science teaching assistant.”

 

“Yes, well, it’s an unfortunate requirement of being a graduate student here at Hogwarts,” he said with a sneer. “Having to teach pathetic freshmen who only want to get an easy A grade. If only I never had to step foot into another introductory level class.”

 

Ginny scoffed, downing half of her beer in one gulp, a talent she’d probably learned from her brothers. “Hermione was just telling me about your teaching methods,” Ginny said with a mean little smirk. “Sounds like things haven’t improved, Riddle.”

 

Hermione blushed under his intense gaze, surprise in their depths. How dare he look so good when he had such an abysmal personality? Wearing a forest green checkered button-down tucked into well fitting jeans, he looked as if he’d stepped out of a fashion magazine. It was a vast improvement to his usual gym attire. He pushed some of his slightly wavy hair from his face. “Yes, Hermione,  _ how _ are your glutes today. Still sore?” he teased, clearly enjoying the flushed look on her cheeks.

 

Ginny coughed, hiding a laugh. Hermione plastered a fake smile on her face, before responding to Tom. “Never better,” she responded sweetly.

 

“Oh?” he questioned with a smirk. “We will have to add some more weight to your bar, then, next time.”

 

“Next time?” Hermione asked, surprised that he was even suggesting a next time. She didn’t know if she could handle him looking at her so closely, analyzing her movements, and correcting her with those warm, big hands. Her eyes dipped to the way he was effortlessly holding his pint, before snapping back up to his face. “I thought that you didn’t want to spend any time with me.”

 

“And yet you continue to invade  _ my _ gym,” he responded, haughtily.

 

“Oh, your gym?” Hermione questioned with a laugh. “Last I checked it was a student gym. Anyone can go there.”

 

The pair of them continued to argue back and forth with one another, until they’d each had two pints. Their conversation had turned from talk of the gym, to talk of his research, to politics in general. Every single stance she took, it seemed that Tom wanted to take the opposite, if only to be contrary to her. It was annoying, but she also found herself having more fun than she’d had in a long time, her face beginning to hurt from how much she’d smiled. He was really far too handsome to be as big of a jerk as he was, and she found that her belly flip-flopped whenever he smiled at her, too. It was...unnerving.

 

She’d enjoyed herself so much that she hadn’t even noticed when Ginny slipped away from their conversation, nowhere to be found at closing. “Come on, I will walk you home,” Tom said, standing from the stool, in an unusually gentlemanly offer. It seemed so out of character for him that she immediately found herself scoffing.

 

“As if I need  _ you _ to help me get back,” she said, throwing on her coat. “No thank you, Tom. I can walk home all by myself. I’m a big girl,” she announced, before leaving him standing dumbfounded at the bar. It felt good to turn down his offer of kindness, the same way that he did to her multiple times. Maybe now he’d see that his actions had consequences too.

* * *

She didn’t see Tom at the gym for over a week. It took her awhile to be honest with herself and recognize that she was a bit sad not to see the annoying arsehole. Her nights under the harsh incandescent lighting, sweating away on a treadmill seemed empty without his smirks and barbs.

 

But, eventually he did show up again, stepping onto the open treadmill next to her to start a warm-up jog before he started to work out. The gym was completely empty besides them seeing as it was the Saturday night after midterms. Surely everyone else was out getting pissed at the pub.

 

“I see you’ve gone back to pointless running,” he said, looking down at the statistics on her machine. Halfway through her training, she’d increased her distance as her big race drew nearer. “That’s...disappointing.”

 

She remembered all of a sudden why he made her want to pull her hair out. “I told you, the weight training was supplemental,” she said between strides. “Now if you don’t mind, my race is eight weeks away. I don’t have time for chit chat.”

 

“Eight weeks away and you’re still on the same pace?” he said with a laugh that had her stomach dropping. “You need to  _ push _ yourself, Hermione, or you’ll never improve.”

 

She could feel her anger boiling over. How dare he waltz back in and continue to critique her? He had no  _ right _ to comment on anything that she did. Slamming her hand against the emergency stop button, she quickly hopped off of the machine, stalking away. Tom seemed surprised by her sudden exodus, and quickly stopped his machine as well, following her.

 

Noticing her tail, Hermione spun around and pushed against his chest. “Just what the hell is your problem?” she questioned. “You come in here and constantly badmouth me, acting like a complete arsehole. Then you are nice sometimes and actually prove yourself to be a decent human being, only to say that you don’t want to spend anytime with me when I am just trying to be nice to you. But despite your protestations, you just won’t  _ leave me alone _ .”

 

He stared down at her and she knew that she probably looked a sight. She knew that she was sweaty from her run, her hair escaping her ponytail. She was breathing heavy from the effort she put in, and for some reason her heart was wildly beating out of control, and she didn’t think it had anything to do with her cardio.

 

Tom towered over her, reading her face. She could see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to work out what exactly had happened. Clearly her blow up had caught him off guard. Finally, determination worked its way over his face as he made his mind on what he’d like to do.

 

He closed the gap between them, only to dip his head down so that he could catch her mouth in a kiss. A needy, urgent kiss, as if he thought if he stopped kissing her, they’d never get to see one another again. He slanted his lips across hers, their noses bumping slightly, only to press past her lips, his tongue dominating her mouth easily. Hermione moaned into him, completely absorbed in what he was doing to her body -- cupping her face with one hand, while the other held her even closer to him -- that she was taken aback by the sudden realization that she never wanted to  _ stop _ kissing Tom either.

 

Just when her lungs were screaming for air, Tom pulled back, gasping as he broke the kiss. Pressing his forehead against hers, he captivated her gaze completely. “I thought this is what we do,” he whispered. “Playful banter is how we communicate.”

 

“Playful banter?” Hermione asked, with a frown. “Is that what you call it? I call it belittling my sport, you dumb...dumb, meathead!”

 

Tom couldn’t hide his smirk. “See, you just did it too. I pretend to be annoyed by your running and then I get to watch your arse between sets,” he said with a laugh, before pressing her closer to his body. She could easily feel how much this was affecting him, too. “And you pretend to hate my advice, but then you steal glances at my arms when I bench press.”

 

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Hermione slowly came to the realization that...he was right. It had started out as genuine dislike, but over the weeks, their back and forth had become some kind of bizarre mating ritual. Groaning at feeling his hardness pressed against her, she was overcome by need.

 

Pressing her legs together, hoping to get some relief, she pulled his head back down for another needy kiss, her tongue sliding against his, hoping to learn just what made  _ his _ toes curl. Breaking away, she looked at his blue eyes, pupils blown wide in desire. “Need you, now,” she commanded.

 

Tom, it seemed, did not need to be told twice. Placing his hands upon her hips, he easily lifted her up to carry her into one of the little changing rooms, locking it behind him. Once they were alone, he set her down on the sink, easily sliding in between her legs. His gym shorts did little to hide his obvious arousal and Hermione found herself gawking.

 

Placing a hand under her jaw, Tom pulled her face up to look at his, before swooping down in another dominating kiss. It was clear that Tom was used to having things go  _ exactly _ the way he wanted, but Hermione couldn’t deny that she loved how it felt. He broke the kiss only to pepper hot, open mouthed kissed along her jaw, down to wear her neck met her shoulders, his hand tilting her head just how he wanted. She knew she should be embarrassed that he was tasting her salty sweat, but all she could focus on was getting him undressed as quickly as possible.

 

Running her hands under his t-shirt, Hermione pushed it up to reveal his firm abs. Hearing a whining sound coming from her throat, she couldn’t believe how good he looked; well, of course, she knew he spent as much time in the gym as she did, so it stood to reason that he would be fit, but this was...another level. Tom pulled away from her neck to look her in the eye, clearly enjoying her appreciation of his body if the proud smirk was anything to go off of. With a simple move he pulled the shirt over his head, before repeating the action with her own shirt.

 

Wanting nothing between them, Hermione quickly pulled the tight sports bra over her head as well, tossing it to the ground. She forced herself to keep her arms at her sides and not cover herself up. She took care of herself too, so she knew she had nothing to be ashamed of. “You look  _ so good, _ Hermione,” Tom groaned, before reaching out a hand to palm a breast. Her heart fluttered when she realized this might be the first real compliment he’d ever paid her.

 

She let her head drop back as his fingers plucked away at her nipples, carefully edging the line between pleasure and pain. Her cunt was throbbing with need and she wanted nothing more than to wrap her legs again his waist and take him inside her. “Please, Tom,” she begged again, thinking that she was liking to explode if he didn’t touch her then.

 

Her greedy fingers reached out and pushed down his shorts, shoving them down his legs. He groaned, as though he were in pain. “We should...I don’t have a condom,” he said looking around the room for one of those machines.

 

“On the pill,” Hermione breathed out eagerly, taking the moment to appreciate his full physique. It should be illegal for someone to look that good, she decided, but she would willingly break the law if it meant she could stare at him all day. “You’re clean?”

 

Tom made a noise of relief before catching her lips in another kiss, grinding his hips against her center eagerly. “Yes, you?”

 

Hermione nodded furiously. “So what are you waiting for?” she questioned, sighing in relief when Tom shoved his shirt under her hips, before pulling down her running shorts and knickers in one motion, leaving them hanging off one running shoe.

 

She didn’t think she’d ever been so eager before in her life, moaning in delight when they finally pressed together with nothing in between them. He ran his hard cock against her wetness, making them both moan together when he nudged that little button at the top of her sex. Hermione eagerly rocked her hips back against him, unable to hold in her gasps at the friction.

 

Grabbing the base of his cock, Tom positioned himself at her entrance before pressing home. Hermione’s eyes fluttered shut at the feeling, thinking that she’d never felt so completed in her life. One of his hands pressed to her lower back to support her, while his other went to the back of her neck to pull her into another kiss, while they both adjusted to the new feelings.

 

And then he started to move.

 

Hermione eagerly wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him as close to her as her hips would allow. Thrust after thrust had her moaning into him, and she was thankful that he was holding her up so that she didn’t knock her head back against the mirror. Rocking her hips back in time with him, she delighted in each of the groans she could pull from him whenever they came together.

 

Their coupling was frenzied and a bit wild. Hermione never would have imagined doing something like this in her life, but with Tom, she was just so desperate for him that she only thought about how amazing he was making her feel. He seemed to know all the right spots to hit, each thrust making her see stars, and the way that their bodies were pressed together was giving her clit the perfect amount of attention. Before she knew it, she was hurtling closer and closer to orgasm.

 

Pulling away from the kiss, she focused everything on that feeling, chasing it with each snap of Tom’s hips. She moaned his name again and again until finally, she was snapping, her pussy clenching around him tightly. Vaguely, she heard Tom say  _ fuck _ and then his thrusts became increasingly more erratic, until he was following her, pressing his face against her neck, groaning as he came.

 

Their movements halted, Hermione basked in the feeling until it was no longer comfortable to keep her legs up as they were.  Hesitantly, she pulled her legs down from his waist, only to have Tom reluctantly free her from his tight embrace. He seemed a bit nervous when they finally made eye contact, as if she were going to be mad at him for what had just occurred.

 

Instead, she sighed in contentment, giving him a lazy smile. “Wow, that was certainly not the workout I was expecting to get today,” she teased.

 

He gave her a hesitant smirk. “But you liked it?” he questioned.

 

Hermione laughed. “Yes, I surprisingly liked it,” she agreed. “But I think next time, I’d prefer a change of venue,” she said, looking around the room.

 

She was surprised to notice a blush on his cheeks. He bent down, only to gather up their discard clothing, handing her her sports bra. “Maybe…” he started, hesitant, before pulling on his boxer briefs and shorts. “Maybe you’d like to try it again after dinner?”

 

She smirked at him, looking at his half-naked body with unveiled desire. “I had something else in mind.”

* * *

Hermione smiled seeing Tom try to make conversation with Harry and Ron. From the looks of it, it was incredibly awkward. Ron, used to being the tallest in their friend group, seemed to be particularly bothered by the fact that his ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend was taller than him, judging by the way that he kept looking the other man up and down.

 

“So, are you going to tell me what happened?” Ginny asked, looking at the boys and then Hermione’s face.

 

“He asked me out on a date,” Hermione said with a shrug. “But I only said yes once he promised he’d run a 5k with me.”

 

“Oh, a  _ real _ date this time?” Ginny asked, amusement on her face. “Because I’m pretty sure that time he came round the pub when we were out qualifies as a date.”

 

Hermione flushed a little bit, remembering how she’d ended up completely ignoring her friend. “I’m sorry, Gin. I didn’t mean to ignore you...he just seems to know  _ exactly _ how to capture my attention some time.”

 

“Oh, so the arguing  _ is _ foreplay, then?” Ginny asked with a grin, teasing her friend. Judging by the way that Hermione flushed, Ginny knew it was true. “Come on, let’s go rescue our men. I think Ron’s about to explode based on how many times he’s checked out Tom’s shoe size. And Tom looks like he’s enjoying it a little  _ too _ much.”


End file.
